


When I see you again

by PassibleLightning



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ciri is a badass, Friendship, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier and Geralt need to talk, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Nilfgaard, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, reunited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassibleLightning/pseuds/PassibleLightning
Summary: After the mountain, Jaskier is trying his best to move on and forget his old traveling partner. But when he finds Ciri, asking for his help rescuing Geralt from the Nilfgaardians, he can't say no. Of course nothing is ever that simple and soon it's not only Geralt whose in trouble.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Witcher fan fiction! 
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> I love these two and definitely plan on writing more about them after I finish this fic!

\--- Jaskier ---

It was starting to drizzle when the inn came into view. Jaskier smiled to himself. He was cold, tired, and not looking forward to tromping around in fast approaching rain. Days on the road alone always made him more appreciative of a warm bed and cheerful company. The town he’d found himself in was so small, for a worrying moment Jaskier thought there wouldn’t be anywhere to stay. But he’d luckily been wrong. The inn was a merry spark of light in an otherwise dark evening. 

Jaskier slipped inside. The inn was overly stuffed with patrons. A bard stood in one corner, singing a passable little ditty. But the patrons, made up of mostly traveling merchants, seemed to enjoy it. 

“Jaskier!” a voice called out from the din. Jaskier turned. An older plump woman was smiling, wiping her hands on an apron. Vaguely, the name Molly floated into his head… owner of the inn… 

Molly wrapped him in a warm hug. 

“How have you been!” Her voice was loud, crashing over the sounds from the other patrons.

“I haven’t seen you or Geralt in years! Oh you’ve grown so much! And your hair! Look at it!”

Jaskier chuckled shily, tugging at his shaggy hair. It had grown a bit long.

“It has been a while.” Jaskier acknowledged. 

“Where’s Geralt anyways?” said Molly brightly, looking behind Jaskier as if Geralt would magically appear from the crowd. 

“Oh... I haven’t seen him in a few months.” said Jaskier. 

Five months to the day, actually; Jaskier thought to himself. 

“Well that’s too bad. I still owe him for the last time you two were here. And if I remember correctly you helped quite a bit.” Jaskier could feel his ears go a bit pink and smiled. 

“Sit down, let me bring you something to eat and I’ll get a room ready for you.” Jaskier reached for his purse strings. Molly laughed loudly. 

“Put that away please. This bar wouldn’t be standing if it wasn’t for you.” Molly ushered him to a table by the front door. She disappeared for a moment, returning with soup and warm ale. Jaskier thanked her and tucked in. 

oooOOOooo

The night passed in a blissful daze. Slowly the inn emptied till it was just Jaskier, Molly, a few regulars, and some soldiers in the corner. The music and food lulled Jaskier into a comfortable warmth. 

Molly had come over to ask if Jaskier wanted to perform while he was staying. He’d politely declined. He hadn’t been playing much since he’d left Geralt on the mountain. He’d play a few songs here and there, enough to get by. But almost all his songs had been about Geralt. And those were still too painful to sing again. He’d been writing new songs, but the inspiration and motivation to write was painfully slow. 

Jaskier remembered the last time he’d been at the inn. He’d played his favorite ballads while Geralt had fought a Griffin who’d taken up roost a bit too close to town for anyone's liking. The two had spent more than their customary single night. Geralt had taken a claw deep to his calf and had been held up in their room for several days. It had been the first time Geralt had let Jaskier patch him up; the towns healer had been killed in the first Griffin attack. Jaskier remembered how his hands had trembled, sewing the Witcher’s leg. But he’d done it and Geralt had even thanked him. 

Jaskier smiled to himself sadly, picking at the last bits of food. 

Quite suddenly, the front door swung open sharply. The wind and the rain rushed in, pelting the back of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier shivered, turning around to see who had let the cold in. 

Jaskier froze. 

A small girl sat huddled by the door. She had a drench cloaked draped around her shoulders. She had her hood pulled up tightly around her head. She locked eyes with Jaskier for a minute. 

Jaskier choked on his ale. 

She was the spitting image of Pavetta. It had to be Princess Cirilla. 

Jaskier stood up suddenly. What was she doing here? He’d heard rumors of course, everyone had. Cintra overrun. Queen Calanthe dead. Jaskier had assumed Cirilla had died too; or been captured by Nifgaard. But here she was, standing in the inn, soaked to the bone. 

With a panicked start, Jaskier looked around the inn. Immediately he spotted the fairly large group of Nilfgaardian soldiers sitting in the corner. They were deep in conversation and had yet to look up. 

Jaskier looked back to Princess Cirilla. She had wedged herself in the corner, inches away from the door. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes fearfully darting around. 

Jaskier made the decision without really thinking. 

“Elle!” Jaskier said a bit too loudly. He darted over to where Princess Cirilla was cowering. She pushed herself closer to the wall. 

Jaskier tried to put on his kindest face. 

“Oh my darling sister. You’re soaked to the bone.” In a fluid motion, Jaskier shrugged off his coat and threw it over Princess Cirilla’s head. Jaskier nervously glanced over at the Nilfgaardians. They hadn’t even glanced up. Jaskier gave an uncomfortable chuckle. 

Princess Cirilla made a scared noise and tried to pry the coat off her head. Jaskier leaned in a whisper. 

“Just play along.” Princess Cirilla just stared up at him with fearful eyes. 

Molly came around the corner.

“Jaskier. Whose this?” Jaskier gave a tight smile. 

“My darling sister. She’s… traveling with me. Learning the craft.” Molly broke into an even wider grin. 

“Oh how sweet. But she’s soaked!” 

“Yes. She should dry off. Are there towels in the room?”

“Of course. First one one the right.” 

“Thank you.” Jaskier gingerly took Princess Cirila by the hand and led her towards the stairs. 

They were a few steps up when Jaskier heard the tell tail sound of a growling stomach. 

“Molly, would you be a dear and bring us our food upstairs?” shouted Jaskier as he hurriedly pushed the girl up the stairs. 

“Oh um yes.” said Molly. 

“Thank you!” shouted Jaskier as he pushed open his room, gently guided the princesses inside, and he slammed the door shut behind them. 

Only then did Jaskier let out a sign of relief. 

Princess Cirilla stood in the middle of the room, shaking. Her wide eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape.

“I think you’ve got me confused with someone.” said Cirilla in a tight voice. “I’m not your sister.” Jaskier gave a small chuckle. 

“Yes I know.” 

“Then why did you say I was?” There was a twinge of fear in her voice. 

“I’m sorry for the lie. But I thought... a young girl with grey hair... it’s quite suspicious, I dare say. And with those Nilfgaards in the back, I rather thought it was best for them not to know Princess Cirilla was here.”

“How do you know…” Her voice was pinched. Jaskier smiled. 

“I met your mother on more than one occasion. You are her spitting image you know. I was actually there when she married your father. Lovely affair.”

“You knew my parents?” A bit of the fear was gone from her voice. Jaskier nodded encouragingly. 

“Queen Calanthe loved my music. She requested me to play often. Fearsome women; I could never turn her down. I was sorry to hear of her passing.” Princess Cirilla looked away quickly, tears pricking her eyes. 

“Thank you. So you’re not… going to turn me in?” said Cirilla. Jaskier gave her a warm smile.

“No. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Besides, I’m sure if I tried your grandmother’s ghost would appear and smite me down. Now, let’s get you dried off?” Jaskier walked over to a thin set of towels situated next to an empty bathtub. He draped one over Cirlla’s head. “And you can tell me what Princess Cirilla is doing is a place like this.” 

“Ciri.” she said. “You can call me Ciri. Or Fiona… that’s what I’ve been going as since…” Ciri trailed off as she began drying her hair. They stood in silence for a moment. Ciri seemed to be thinking hard about something and Jaskier was in no rush.

“I’m looking for someone. I misplaced him.” Ciri finally said. 

“Got yourself a bodyguard? Smart move.” said Jaskier. 

“I guess you could call him that.” 

“How did you two get separated?”

“Nilfgaard found us. He held them off. Told me to run. So I did. I haven’t seen him since.” 

“Maybe I can help? I’ve been known to help the odd folk here and there.” Ciri smiled sheepishly.

“Thank you but no. He told me not to trust anyone. Not even…” Ciri paused, studying Jaskier for a moment. “...a bard? Are you a bard.” Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. 

“How rude of me. Jaskier.” he bowed deeply. “At your service.” Ciri froze, suddenly intently staring at Jaskier. 

”Jaskier… the bard.. who played for my grandmother?” Jaskier nodded again in confirmation.

“The one and only.”

“Geralt’s bard?” Ciri asked, a twinge of hope in her voice. 

Jaskier felt his face flush. “Well that’s hardly… I’m no one's bard…” Ciri took an intentional step forward. 

“But you traveled with Geralt?”

For a fleeting moment Jaskier thought of denying it. He’d spent months distancing himself from Geralt. He’d tried to forget the years on the road; the happiest years of his life. But Jaskier was never one for lying, embellishing maybe, but not lying; especially not to wayward princesses. 

“Yes.” Jaskier huffed. “For more years and adventures than I care to say.” Ciri beamed. 

“I know. He told me about some of them.” 

Jaskier froze. Now it was his turn to study Ciri. 

“ _Geralt_ is your bodyguard? He… he came back for you?” Ciri nodded and Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle. “I honestly didn’t think he had it in him.” Jaskier hummed to himself. 

“He talks about you often.” Ciri said. Jaskier looked back at her. 

“He does?”

“Oh yes. He told me all about the bard who followed him across the whole continent and back again.” Ciri smiled fondly, but Jaskier felt himself go red again.

“I wouldn’t say _follow_ …” Jaskier mumbled, frowning down at the ground. So that was all Jaskier had been to Geralt; the nuisance who followed him around like some lost puppy. 

“You know…” Ciri said, snapping Jaskier out of his daze.

“He made me memorize a list of names, of people I could trust; for if we ever got separated. He made me say them back to him every night.” Ciri took a deep breath and closed her eyes as if she was reciting a sacred oath. 

“Jaskier the bard, Vesemir, Yennefer of Vengeberg, Eskel, Lambert, Crach an Craite.”

“My name was first?” Jaskier asked. Ciri nodded. 

“Every night.” Something shifted in Jaskier’s heart; something small and hard that had buried itself deep within him since the day on the mountain. A bit of it seemed to fade away.

“And he’s gone. Geralt is gone?” Ciri nodded sadly.

“Yes. We were supposed to meet here. But I’ve been waiting and watching the inn… and I haven’t seen him… I think.. I think Nilfgaard must have gotten him…” Ciri trailed off, her eyes suddenly tearfilled. 

Jaskier paused for a moment. He didn’t want to see Geralt again. Sure, he dreamt of Geralt finding him; of Geralt throwing himself on his knees pleading for forgiveness and showering Jaskier in apologies. But Jaskier always woke up before he had to decide to forgive Geralt. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to actually come to that decision. If Geralt even apologized or if Geralt even wanted to see him. Logically Jaskier knew that he would run into Geralt again. It was a small world and they ran in similar circles. They had bumped into each other so many times over the years. Jaskier had thought Geralt had been expertly avoiding him the last few months. Now it appeared the more likely scenario was standing in front of him. And regardless of how he felt, or how Geralt would feel about seeing him again, Jaskier would never abandon someone in help, especially not Ciri. 

“Well. Then I guess I should ask you again. Ciri, would you like my help finding Geralt?”

Ciri beamed at him.

“Yes.” 

“Alright. Okay.” said Jaskier. He began to pace around the room. “We need to find Geralt.” 

“How do we do that?” asked Ciri. Jaskier thought for a moment. 

“The Nilfgaardians in the inn; there’s too many for them to all be staying here. If they’re not staying here, then they must have a camp somewhere close. All we need to do is follow them tonight and they’ll lead us right to Geralt.” 

“Alright. So we should… I don’t know, hide in some bushes out front and wait for them to leave?”

“Oh no. _I’m_ hiding in some bushes. You’re staying right here.” 

“No I am not!” said Ciri, stopping her foot down. “I am helping you find Geralt.” 

“Absolutely not. Geralt would literally kill me if anything happened to you. And the Nilgaard are looking for you. You need to stay out of sight.” 

“But I can help! Geralt has been teaching me how to fight. And yes I haven’t quite figured out some of my other talents but I can be helpful.” An edge of desperation crept into Ciri’s voice. 

“I can't just sit here and hope you two will come back. I’ve done enough waiting and enough running.” 

“I know, believe me I know what it’s like to wait while Geralt meanders into danger. I’ve been left behind in more inns than I can count. And yes… most times I’d follow Geralt; there was this one time he actually locked me in the room and I scaled down the side of the building… But that’s not the point. The point is -”

“But you’d save Geralt.” Ciri cut him off. “He told me countless times you’d rush in and distract.” 

“I’m sure he’s also told you how many times it almost ended with me dead or Geralt having to save my ass instead of me saving him?”

“But…” Ciri’s bottom lip wobbled. “Geralt…” Jaskier grabbed Ciri firmly by the shoulders.

“I promise you I will find Geralt and bring him back to you. But you have to stay safe.” 

Ciri nodded glumly. 

“Alright… good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier follows the Niflgaardians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took me a while to write! Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one was!
> 
> Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you all!

\--- Jaskier ---

Jaskier was absolutely soaked. The rain poured down in sheets and although it provided ample coverage; it also meant that Jaskier was shivering wet mess. Still, he was thankful for the rain as the Nilfgaardians left the tavern. They were drunk and in a hurry to escape the wet. That made Jaskier’s task of following them through the forest that much easier. 

There were a few fearful moments when Jaskier lost the Nilfgaardians in the dark forest. But each time Jaskier found them by their loud, jovial, drunken shouting. They quieted down when they entered a clearing. 

Jaskier stopped too, edging just close enough to see a handful of soldiers sitting around a fire that was burning in front a rotting down shack. Jaskier was surprised by how close the Nilfgaardians had set up camp to town. Jaskier hoped it meant they were overconfident with their capture. And since Jaskier couldn’t see Geralt amongst the Nilfgaardians, he must be kept in the dilapidated building.

Keeping to the shadows, Jaskier edged around the camp. He kept careful watch on the Nilfgaardians. The new guards seemed to be taking the majority of the attention. Jaskier could hear what he assumed was the captain berating the intoxicated men. Jaskier silently thanked whoever was listening for the distraction. Jaskier was able to make it to the back of the shack without anyone taking notice. Jaskier peered into a dirt smeared window. It took a minute for his eyes to look past the cobwebs and grime, but Jaksier could eventually see a hulking great shape filling up what little space was available. 

Geralt.

It was Geralt. Jaskier had no doubt. He’d recognize the Witcher anywhere.

Jaskier looked around the outside of the shed. No door. Jaskier should have figured. But the window was cracked. Jaskier slipped his thin arm through and fumbled around for the lock. He felt it click open. Carefully, Jaskier removed his arm and pushed the window open. Jaskier heaved himself up and over the windowsill and landed with a soft thud inside the shack. Jaskier froze for a moment, fearful the Nilfgaardians had heard him. But when there was not a mad rush of soldiers, Jaskier sighed with relief. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered. The dark shadow didn’t move but now, without the crusty window, Jaskier could see the silver hair, matted with dirt and blood. He could see Geralt’s hands shackled behind him and securely fashioned to a support beam. 

Jaskier barely registered himself sprinting across the room and throwing himself in front of Geralt. 

Geralt’s head hung against his chest, eyes closed. He was covered in a worrying mixture of cuts and bruises. He was drenched in his own blood and several of his fingers were bent the wrong way. But Geralt was breathing. Jaskier could see the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. 

“Oh Geralt. What did they do to you?” Jaskier murmured. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his voice still barely above a whisper. “Wake up.” Besides the still sluggish bleeding wounds, Geralt didn’t move. Jaskier bit back the worry threatening to overrun him. Jaskier carefully patted a small section of Geralt’s cheek that was uninjured. 

“Geralt. _Please_ wake up.” Geralt stayed still. 

“ _Please_ _please_ wake up. I… I won’t be able to carry you out here by myself. I-” Jaskier cut himself off with a choked sob. 

“And I promised I’d get you back. And.. you still haven’t apologized to me. So wake up you big oaf!” Jaskier slapped Geralt harder, flinching at the painful sound it made. Geralt wrinkled his nose slightly and groaned. Jaskier let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness. Geralt can you look at me?” Geralt’s eyes fluttered open and he raised his head slightly. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice was even more gravely. Rarely had Jaskier heard him so confused. Still, Jaskier felt the tension leave him and he smiled. 

“Who else would come rescue at this time of night?” Jaskier asked, hoping his lighthearted tone would project confidence. 

“How?” Geralt asked. 

“I found someone who's looking for you. I thought I should lend a hand. So I followed the Nilfgaardians from the tavern. Amateurs. They led me straight to you.” 

“You found someone?” Geralt said, in a clearer voice. 

“Yeah, and we’re getting back to her just as soon as I get you out of here.” 

Jaskier moved to try and wrench the cuffs off. But the cold iron held firm. 

“Damn these are strong.” 

“I know that.” grumbled Geralt.

“Okay. Okay. I can fix this. Let me just find something to pry these off.” Jaskier looked around. He spied a large toolbox by the door, splattered with dried blood. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He forced himself over and picked up a large mallet from inside. 

Jaskier took two steps towards Geralt, and then the front door exploded in. Jaskier stumbled back, dazed, as Nilfgaardian soldiers poured in. 

“Run!” shouted Geralt behind him. But it was too late. Before Jaskier could fully register what was happening, he was surrounded. Jaskier took a swing at the nearest soldier with the mallet, but the man caught it effortlessly and wrenched it from Jaskier’s grip. The Nilfgaardian sneered in his face, reared back, and struck Jaskier across the face with the hammer. Jaskier’s vision exploded with pain. He felt himself falling back. He landed on the ground and for a moment the world faded to black. 

“No!” Geralt’s scream brought Jaskier out of the darkness. He felt hands on him, rough. His arms were wrenched behind his back. He felt coarse rope wind tight around his wrists. Jaskier tried to fight. But at the slightest movement his head erupted in pain. He could do little as the Nilfgaardians manhandled him. They pulled him up, forcing him to his knees. He would have fallen to the ground, if not for two sets of hands digging painfully into his shoulders. 

“Jask?” said Geralt. His voice was as close to worried as Jaskier had heard. Jaskier cracked his eyes open. Geralt’s face was right in front of his. Jaskier tried to give a weak smile. 

“Sorry… was supposed… to rescue you.” Jaskier tried to say, but words seemed to be difficult. 

“You should have run.” Geralt said, firmly. Jaskier huffed a laugh. 

“Mnnn not leaving you.” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt’s face looked strained, maybe even worried; but even without a head wound Jaskier struggled to read Geralt. 

“Aw. Isn’t this just sweet.” Said a sneering voice. Geralt’s face darkened. Jaskier felt a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. 

“Did your little pet come to rescue you?” Geralt stared daggers at someone just behind Jaskier’s head. 

“Well this should make things more interesting. My men were starting to get bored.” The voice said. Jaskier felt the man behind him shift as he walked in front of Jaskier, blocking Geralt from Jaskier’s view. The man crouched down, his face finally visible. 

Jaskier felt his blood run cold. The man’s eyes were cold and wet like a dead fish. Jaskier had never seen eyes like that. He didn’t like the way they stared at him, like he was a particularly juicy slice of meat. 

“Hello there.” The man said. “I am Captain Eldris. And you are?” Jaskier started shaking. He couldn’t help it. There was something so completely wrong about Eldris. Every instinct Jaskier had told him to run, or to fight, to do something. Instead he felt himself freeze; terror gripping every inch of him. Jaskier wanted to make a witty comeback; some biting remark. But his mouth was glued shut.

“Not talking?” Eldris asked. “That’s fine, for now. Let me make a guess.” Eldris looked Jaskier up and down in study. Finally he snapped his fingers together dramatically. 

“I know.” Eldris said in mock surprise. “You must be Jaskier the Bard. I’ve heard about you. You sing about The White Wolf.” 

“I… I haven’t sung about Geralt in a while.” Jaskier finally found his voice. Eldris raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh really?” Jaskier nodded slightly. 

“But you _are_ Jaskier.” Jaskier managed another shaky nod. 

“You’re _his_ friend.” Eldris pointed to Geralt. 

“Friend is a strain.” huffed Jaskier. “We haven’t seen each other in a while.” Geralt grimaced. 

“He’s right. I got rid of him years ago.” Geralt said through gritted teeth. “He isn’t my friend. He’s just a pest.” 

Jaskier frowned slightly. The mountain had been some months ago, but not years. 

“Oh he is?” Eldris gave a knowing smirk. “If that’s the case… you know what we do with pests.” Jaskier’s eyes widened as Eldris unsheathed a sickly long knife. Eldris strolled closer, raising the knife. 

“N-now hold on. I…” Jaskeir started. Eldris brought the knife down, neatly slicing into Jaskier’s bicep. Jaskier gave a cry of pain as he watched with morbid fascination as his shirtsleeve quickly turned his shirt red with his own blood. Eldris smiled down at Jaskier. His grin sent shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Oh this one bleeds much better than you do mutant.” Eldris ran his finger along his blade, picking up some of Jaskier’s blood. 

Fear flooded through Jaskier. Jaskier had been hurt before. He’d been with Geralt long enough to accumulate an impressive list of injuries; cuts, bruises, concussions; he’d even been hit by an arrow. Jaskier wasn’t a stranger to pain. But this was different. Eldris was different and that scared Jaskier more than any pain before had.

“Now. I don’t know what the relationship here is. Honestly, I could care less. What I _do_ care about is when I do this...” Eldris carved into Jaskier’s arm again, drawing another line of blood and a hiss from Jaskier. “ _Your_ face gets all concerned, mutant. It’s touching really.” 

Geralt glowered but said nothing. Eldris’s grin wavered slightly. 

“Ohhh. Maybe I was wrong. Do you really not care about him?” 

Geralt sneered. “Like I said, he’s a nuisance. You’re doing me a favor, really.” 

Jaskier starred at Geralt. He wasn’t sure if Geralt was trying to protect him or if he really felt that way. Jaskier didn’t care. Geralt’s words hurt the same. Jaskier felt tears begin to well up but he pushed them down. He refused to cry in front of any of them. 

“Y...yeah.” Jaskier managed to say, his voice shaking. “I’m just a thorn in his side that he got rid of a long time ago. I’m nobody to him. Not anymore at least.” 

“Hmmm. Alright then.” Eldris dropped the knife. It landed close to Jaskier’s leg. For a second Jaskier thought about lunging towards it. But then Eldris was leaning down towards Jaskier. 

“Stay away.” hissed Jaskier. Eldris’s smile widened. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Eldris wrapped his hands around Jaskier’s neck and squeezed. Panic gripped Jaskier as he fought to take a breath but no air came. Jaskier tried to twist his head to throw Eldris off, but he held firm. 

“Ger…” Jaskier managed to wheeze. Black dots were filling his view. His body was becoming numb. He couldn’t think. Everything was fading. Jaskier tried desperately to fight for air. But Eldris was too strong, his large hands wrapped too tightly. 

Suddenly, Jaskier was struck with a terrible thought. Eldris’s putrid face was all he could see. It was going to be the last thing he ever saw. Jaskier felt the tears he’d tried so hard to hold back slip down his face. Jaskier tried to look away, to find Geralt’s face. But everything was swimming and Jaskier couldn’t see him. 

“JASKIER!” Geralt roared. “You fucks, I’ll kill you!”Jaskier could hear Geralt pulling against his cuffs. Eldris continued to grin. 

Jaskier felt his eyes slipping shut; whatever fight leaving his body. 

“Jask!” Geralt’s voice broke slightly. 

“Fine!” Geralt shouted. “Yes he’s my friend! Now let him go!”

Suddenly the hands were gone. Jaskier gasped. then coughed, desperately sucking in as much air as he could. Without Eldris’s support Jaskier toppled to the ground. Jaskier coughed a few more times, till thankfully the blackness started to retreat. Finally, he could see Geralt’s face. Jaskier frowned. He’d never seen Geralt look so afraid. Jaskier wanted to reassure Geralt, but when he opened his mouth only a hoarse wheeze came out. 

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it mutant.” Eldris said. 

Jaskier felt his eyes slipping close once again. Everything hurt, his arms, his throat, his head. He was so tired. He knew he should fight it, but he was exhausted. 

“Jaskier, look at me.” Geralt’s voice cut through the fog of Jaskier’s mind. Jaskier forced his eyes to flutter open. “Everything is going to be fine.” Geralt’s voice was calm and steady. It made Jaskier feel a tiny bit better. 

“Oh… Geralt, I wouldn’t lie to him.” cooed Eldris. Eldris raised his foot and brought it down. It connected with Jaskier’s chin, sending Jaskier into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has feelings he's trying to sort through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not completely happy with this chapter...   
> But that's okay! Hopefully everyone still enjoys it!
> 
> A wonderful commenter suggested I write a chapter from Geralt's point of view so I thought I'd give that a try  
> I've been playing the Witcher 3 so I think Geralt's personality is closer to the game than the movies.

\--- Geralt ---

Geralt felt the color drain from his face as he watched Jaskier fall limply to the ground. For a horrifying moment Geralt thought they’d kill him, but then Jaskier’s chest rose and fell subtly. Geralt let out a shaky breath. 

Eldris smiled gleefully. Another Nilfgaard reached down and snapped cold iron cuffs around Jaskier's arms and legs.

“Oh you should see the look on your face.” Eldris smirked. Geralt tried to pull his face into the semblance of stoic. Eldris made a tutting sound. 

“I think we’re a little past that. You’re not fooling anyone.” 

Eldris reached down and grabbed Jaskier by his ruffled collar. Geralt felt himself still. The dread he’d been fighting back rose up again with a vengeance. Eldris smiled and shook Jaskier slightly. Geralt tensed. 

“Now he’s a singer, right? I wonder if that’ll make his screams louder?” Eldris sneered. 

Geralt felt a growl building in the back of his throat. Eldris cackled. 

“I’ll see you two soon.” Eldris tossed Jaskier at Geralt, who landed painfully in Geralt’s lap. “Watch him for me, will you? It would be a pain if he died in his sleep before we had a chance to  _ properly  _ talk.” Eldris laughed at his own joke as he and the rest of the Nilfgaardians filed out of the shack. 

Geralt looked down at Jaskier’s unconscious face leaning against his thigh. He must have hit his head on something going down; there was a trickle of blood rolling down his face. The sight pulled at his heartstrings in a way that only Jaskier could. 

Geralt sighed. Geralt didn’t know how to sort through his emotions on the best of days. This wasn’t a good day. Today Jaskier was lying unconscious in his lap, after he tried to save him. Geralt was terrified that Jaskier would never wake up, terrified what it meant if he did wake up when Eldris came back. He was worried about Ciri. He was worried about himself. Most immediately he was worried about Jaskier. But the worst was that some sick part of him was happy to see Jaskier again. It was too much. Geralt tried to take a steadying breath; he needed to be calm for what came next.

Geralt had replayed his reunion with Jaskier over and over in his head. He’d run across him playing some brokenhearted melody in a tavern, preferably about Geralt. Geralt would be returning from some hunt, hopefully with an impressive monster head. Jaskier would be so impressed that he’d launch into one of his ballads. Geralt would wait till Jaskier finished and then Geralt would apologize. Geralt had practiced what he’d say. I’m sorry. I was a complete idiot. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. I should have never let you walk away. I should have run after you. Jaskier would look at him… and that was as far Geralt’s daydreams let him go, because not in a million years did Geralt imagine Jaskier would forgive him. Hell in half of his daydreams Jaskier wouldn’t even talk to him. In most of them Jaskier ran away in tears. 

This scenario had never even crossed his mind. 

Geralt looked back down at Jaskier. 

Vaguely Geralt wonders if he should move Jaskier. He wouldn’t be able to do so gracefully. But he wasn’t sure how Jaskier would react to waking up in Geralt’s lap. It wasn’t like they’d never been in this position before. Once, when Jaksier had come down with a fever miles away from the nearest town, the only thing that had calmed him was Geralt carding his hands through his hair. And it had been easier to do that with Jaskier’s head in his lap. Geralt had denied it had happened fervently when Jaskier had remembered bits and pieces of it. Then there had been the time that a Drowner had pulled Jaskier under the water for far too long. Geralt had dragged him out and Jaskier had been exhausted. He’d let Jaskier rest where they landed on the shore, which happened to be on his leg. That time it had been harder to deny. 

Besides, Jaskier would get a crick in his neck laying like that. But Geralt could feel Jaskier’s breath on his leg, reminding him Jaskier was alive. Besides, a sore neck was probably the least of their worries. So Geralt didn’t move him. He just watched him with increasing worry. 

It took Jaskier a few more terrifying minutes to wake up. Finally he scrunched his face and groaned. 

“Jask?” Geralt asked. “Are you back with me?” Jaskier nodded slowly. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was a little too slow. Geralt felt his brown knit together in worry.

“I’m here. Can you look at me?” 

Jaskier opened his eyes, shifted slightly, and gazed up at Geralt. He gave him a crooked smile. 

“You’re really blurry.” Jaskier muttered. Geralt huffed. 

“You hit your head.” Jaskier frowned. 

“That explains the ringing then.” There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked; he sounded incredibly lost. Geralt hummed in response. 

“Did… I come to save you and then immediately get my ass kicked?” 

“Yes you did.” 

“Fuck. I was really hoping that was the concussion.”

“If it makes you feel better they kicked my ass too.”

“Oddly, that does.” Jaskier grinned up. Geralt huffed but felt the edges of his mouth twitch in a smile. 

“So… um…” Jaskier looked away, hurriedly. “How have you been?”

“Jask…”

“No that was stupid, sorry.” Jaskier said hurriedly. Jaskier chewed on his lower lip. He only did that when he was really nervous. 

“No… I didn’t mean…” Geralt sighed. 

“Jask… I…” Geralt tried to nudge Jaskier with his leg, trying to get Jaskier to look at him. But Jaskier wouldn’t.

Geralt didn’t want to do this here. Not when Jaskier was literally trapped with him. Jaskier should have the option to leave the conversation whenever he wanted, to take time to process after it. But the chances that they were both getting out of here were not strong. And Geralt didn’t want to die before Jaskier knew he was sorry. 

“Jask…” Geralt took a deep breath. “I want to apologize to you. But we’re both trapped here and you’re hurt… so right now might not be the best time.” Jaskier tensed slightly. 

“You want to apologize?” Jaskier whispered. 

“Yes…”

Jaskier shifted in his lap, looked up at him and fuck. His eyes were big, watery; all pain and vulnerability. Geralt felt his heart pang again. 

“Or now… I could do it now. I don’t have any of my notes though...” Jaskier raised a confused eyebrow. 

“Notes?” Jaskier asked. Geralt nodded. 

“Ciri was helping me write out some thoughts.” Jaskier suppressed a snort. 

“So… what was the outline… of these notes?” Jaskier asked. Geralt sighed and took a deep breath. 

“That I’m sorry.” said Geralt; his voice tight with pain and guilt. “I shouldn’t have said what I did to you on the mountain. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. You didn’t deserve it. I shouldn’t have… fuck. I’m not good at this. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be better.” 

“Ciri seems to be a good influence on you.” Jaskier chuckled. 

“She is. You’ll like her.” Geralt said with a smile. 

“I  _ already  _ like her.”

“That’s right. Where’d she find you?” Geralt asked. Jaskier frowned. 

“I don’t think I should tell you.” Jaskier said slowly. Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

“You’d be in an impossible situation if you knew. You heard that Nilfgaard. He’s going to use me to get information from you. And when he does… if you knew where Ciri is then you’d have to decide between helping me and protecting her. I don’t want you to have to do that. I  _ know  _ you Geralt. There’s no way either of us would put that little girl in danger. But regardless, you’d get that brooding look you’d get and blame yourself for not saying anything to stop what’s about to happen.” 

“Jask.”

“And fuck Geralt; I really don’t want to think about what happens next.” Jaskier started to tremble slightly. 

“This is my decision to make and I choose her. Please Geralt. Let me protect you both.” Geralt smiled sadly. 

“I don’t know if I should thank you or slap you for being so self sacrificing.” 

“Please don’t slap me.” Jaskier chuckled. 

“Yes Geralt, don’t slap him.” Both Jaskier and Geralt jumped. Neither of them had realized Eldris had reentered the room. 

“That’s my job.” Eldris smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating tags as I go along!


End file.
